The Gorilla Speaks
by Tobias Flies Free
Summary: On the anniversary of Rachel's death, her sister Jordan looks for comfort and reassurance from an unlikely source.
1. Chapter 1

THE GORILLA SPEAKS

My hand shook as I reached up to ring the doorbell. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves, and pushed the button.

Almost immediately, a butler answered the door. "Greetings, madam," he said. "Unfortunately, Mr. Black is not allowing visitors at this time. Please try back another time." He moved to shut the door, but I interrupted.

"Please, just go and tell him that Jordan Berenson is here."

"I suppose there is no harm in telling him," the butler said reluctantly, "but I do not expect it to make any difference. I shall return momentarily."

I leaned against one of the pillars on the porch and looked around the grounds of Marco's estate. I'd never seen such a high concentration of pointlessly frittered money in my life. It stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the country I'd seen from the taxi windows on the ride from the airport. Poorly paved streets, dilapidated housing, and very little industry or agriculture as far as I could see. The house was set just far enough back from the gate that it wasn't possible to see the town from the porch.

It made me kind of sick.

Finally, the door opened. I turned to see Marco Roussos – Marco Black now, I guess – walk through the door, arms open. "Jordan! I haven't seen you in years! How are you?"

"Better than the last time," I said, not moving.

Marco sobered. "Yeah, well, funerals are never fun," he muttered. He made his way over to the pillar opposite me and leaned against it, nearly missing. "Sorry. I'm a little drunk."

"At ten in the morning?"

"You know what day it is."

Of course I knew what day it was. Earth Liberation Day. The only holiday to be recognized by every country on Earth.

The day my sister had died.

"I'm not drunk," I pointed out.

"You, my friend," Marco said, "had to fly over from the States on an orbital hopper. If you had been drinking, none of it would be left in you." He gestured toward the door. "Come on in."

I followed him into the absurdly ornate mansion. "What's up with this, anyway?" I asked.

"What's up with what?"

"_This_." I waved a hand around, encompassing our surroundings. "People are living in hovels out there, and here you are, King Marco the Magnificent."

He sighed, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels off a counter as we walked and gulping some down. "Jordan, I don't think you understand how incredibly rich I am."

I looked around and made an incredulous noise in the back of my throat.

"Yeah, okay, there's all this," he said. "Jordan, I don't even _see_ half of the money I make. That goes directly into whatever this government's equivalent of the DPW is."

"Then why is everything out there so _shitty_?"

Marco plopped down on a couch and patted the seat next to him. I sat in an easy chair facing him instead. He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Anyway, right now they're working on infrastructure stuff in the north. You can't just renovate an entire country at a time." He took another gulp of whiskey. "You want a drink?"

"I'm good."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, he with his whiskey, I with my thoughts.

_I shouldn't have come here_, I thought. _Not today, anyway. This is a bad day for both of us._ But maybe that was why it was important to come today. Maybe it was time for today to have some happy memories attached to it.

"Music?" Marco asked suddenly, jerking me out of my musings. He grabbed a remote off of a nearby table and aimed it at the wall, hitting a button.

"-violence in your heart/I want to recog-"

Marco turned the music back off. "Wrong playlist," he muttered.

"I want you to tell me about my sister," I blurted out.

He blinked. "What? You mean, now? Here? Me?"

I nodded.

"Here isn't a good place." He rose and offered me his hand. I ignored it and stood up. "There isn't nearly enough alcohol here. We need to head to the bar."

* * *

><p>"So, Rachel," Marco said. He was visibly drunk now, having drained the bottle of Jack on the walk up to the bar and halfway through a glass of vodka. "Fuck. I don't even know where to start."<p>

"Start at the beginning," I prompted, pouring myself a glass of wine.

"Right. The beginning. Right." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Right. I didn't really know her too well until, you know, the war. She was pretty, obviously, and I knew she was Jake's cousin, but, y'know." He drained the glass and poured himself some more. "She was the bravest Animorph." He paused. "Pfft. Animorph. Stupid fuckin' word. Did you know I came up with it?" I shook my head. "Yeah. Animal morphers. Five teenagers with-" He sighed. "Anyway, yeah, she was the bravest. Always getting us going, always the first one in. We were more confident because she was there.

"But you know all that."

"Yeah." That's what all of the history books said about her. It was basically the extent of what Marco had written in his autobiography and what Cassie had said in interviews. "I was hoping there was more to her than that."

Marco squinted at me like he was trouble seeing me. Although given the amount of ethanol floating around his bloodstream, he actually might have been.

"You look at Rachel, right, and you see this thing, don't you? This big legacy that you're expected to live up to - this sort of more-than-human brave warrior that nobody could possibly escape the shadow of, right?" I looked away and finished my wine. "Hey." I looked back at him. "Listen to me. You're a lot like Rachel in some ways, y'know?"

I sighed. "I hear that a lot."

"Yeah, but, I mean it." He grinned his infectious PR grin. "You know why? Because you're sitting here scared shitless that it's going to turn out that you really can't live up to the Rachel legacy, but you've got your brave face on and you're sitting here and listening to me ramble anyway." He drained the rest of the vodka bottle. "Rachel wasn't fearless. She put on the act for us, but I know she was fucking scared to death as much as the rest of us. Hell, you probably saw more of that than we did, even though you didn't know it."

Realization hit. "Maggots."

Marco gave me a blank stare. "What?"

"One night," I explained, pouring myself another glass, "I think really early in the war, Rachel woke up screaming about maggots."

"Ah, right." Marco nodded. "That was the shrew morph, I think. She really got shook up by that. First time any of us did a rodent." He cracked a bottle of bourbon and poured two shots.

"I don't drink bourbon," I protested.

"The hell you don't," Marco insisted. "This is a day for copious amounts of powerful liquor."

I shrugged and took the shot, then coughed as it burned its way down my throat.

"You get used to it," he said, downing his own shot. "Anyway, yeah. You came here to hear about Rachel, and in my mind, that means you're already as brave as she was."

I drained my wine glass to hide my misty eyes. "Thanks," I said once I had my emotions under control again.

"There was more to her than that, though," Marco said, now starting to slur as he drank straight from the bottle of bourbon. "She was... she was a good friend, even though we weren't real close as far as the Aninorphs, uh, Animorphs went. I mean, she and Tobias were, yeah, they were kind of had a thing going, going on, but after my mother died for the third time, or didn't die, or whatever, she was the only person other than Jake who visited me to talk about it. She cared, you know? Even though we didn't always get along."

I wasn't sure exactly what Marco was talking about anymore, but I understood the sentiment. I held out my wine glass and he filled it with bourbon.

"I worried about her," he said, suddenly a bit more coherent. "A lot. I mean, she could take care of herself in a fight, obviously. But she was always a lot more into it than the rest of us. She liked fighting. It was kind of messed up and sociopathic and shit, and I was scared of what she might become." He took another swig. "She was scared too. All the fuckin' time, she was scared of how much she enjoyed the battle, how alive it made her feel. And I sorta understand, because I had moments like that too, when I came up with a really brilliant plan, something really ruthless, I understood the way she felt in battle. But she had it a lot worse than me." Another drink. "Really, I don't know how she would've reacted if she'd survived the war., addicted as she was. Maybe she would've gotten more normal. Maybe she would've become a stunt person or something. I don't know." A horrified expression crept onto his face. "Fuck. _Fuck_. I shouldn't have told you that. I'm too drunk to be talking right now. I meant to tell you that some other time. Goddammit, now wasn't the time. Fuck. Sorry."

"It's okay, Marco, really, I promise." I was starting to slur a little, too. And everything was going all fuzzy and sleepy. I poured myself some more bourbon. "I never got a chance to really _know_ Rachel, you know? I wanna know everything." I drained the glass again and looked at Marco. "Stop moving around so much, you're making me dizzy."

The last thing I remembered was Marco trying to focus long enough to tell me a rambling story about some mission he'd gone on with her as I laid my head against the cool wood of the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

THE GORILLA SPEAKS

* * *

><p><em>Apologies for how long this has taken to write. I've been working on getting a new job and involved in a number of plays, which consumed most of my free time.<em>

* * *

><p>"Hey, Jordan. Wake up."<p>

I rolled over and looked at Marco through bleary eyes. "What time is it?"

He smirked. "It's like two in the morning. You sure don't hold your liquor very well."

"Jesus." I got out of bed and stretched life back into my muscles. I was still wearing the same clothes I'd worn that morning, thank God. "What's there to do around here at two in the morning? I imagine the club scene isn't very active."

Marco laughed, but didn't answer. Instead, he backed out of the bedroom door, beckoning for me to follow. Just to be contrary, I closed the door behind him and changed into some fresh clothes before making my way out of the room.

When I did finally make it into the corridor, Marco looked a bit put out. "You could have just played along," he grumbled.

"What would be the fun in that?" I asked airily, drifting past him. Halfway down the corridor, I realized that I had no idea where I was in the mansion nor any idea where I was supposed to be going. Deflated, I made my way back to Marco and his insufferable smirk.

"Come on, I've got a surprise for you," he said, leading me the opposite way I'd been heading.

I followed, but I couldn't resist the urge to snark again. Maybe the tacky opulence was grating on my nerves, or maybe I was still a little drunk. "You threw a surprise together for me in..." I counted quickly in my head. "Fifteen hours?"

"Well, no," Marco said with a grin. "I slept for six or seven."

And with that thoroughly unsatisfying answer, Marco refused to elaborate any further. A couple minutes later, we'd arrived in what seemed to be a private movie theater. Without waiting to be invited, I plopped down in a chair near the center. Marco sat beside me and immediately slouched so far I was sure I could hear his spine creak.

"Roll it, Jeeves!" he called out to the butler at the projector.

The projector started up, but the screen remained blank. I could hear teenage laughter, though. "What is this, some kind of arthouse flick?" I asked, puzzled.

Marco shushed me and gestured at the screen.

"Is this thing even working?" I heard a boy say. _Jake_, I realized with a shock. He'd been so young whenever this was made.

"Maybe if you took the _cap_ off," came the exasperated reply from what sounded like a much younger Marco.

"Oh for God's sake." I shivered. I hadn't heard Rachel's voice in nearly a decade. Suddenly the screen flashed white, followed by the camera's adjusting to the new light level and bringing Rachel's young face into focus like some sort of angel descending from heaven. "Seriously, it's not that hard."

"Well I'm sorry we all can't be experts, _Xena_," film-Marco shot back. The camera swung around dizzyingly to focus on him. He waved. "Hey, I'm on TV! Hi, dad!"

Next to me, Marco groaned, facepalming. "I still can't believe I was ever this dumb."

"Come on, guys, stop messing around," Cassie said from off-camera. "I really need some help mucking these stables out."

"Well _I_ can't do it, I'm filming," Jake protested.

Film-Marco flopped back onto a hay bale and clutched his knee. "Ohh! Ow! Oh God! My knee has suddenly and inexplicably given out!"

There was a moment of silence, followed by my sister saying, "I'm sure you would." I could almost hear her eyes rolling.

"That was Tobias," the real Marco informed me. "Saying he'd help if he had hands, or something."

"Why didn't he just morph?" I asked curiously.

"This was way early on in the war," he explained. "It was before the Ellimist gave Tobias back his morphing powers." He pointed at the screen. "This is the bit I thought you'd want to see."

Suddenly the scene cut to what looked like an old bell tower. The teenaged Animorphs were all wearing unfashionable skintight clothing (aside from Rachel, of course, who looked like a fashion plate in her leotard). "I don't know about this," Jake said. "Should we really have evidence like this lying around for a Controller to find?"

"No," film-Marco said, sounding more serious than I'd ever heard him in my life. "But we should have some sort of record, in case..."

He didn't finish, but it was clear from his tone what he was thinking.

"I can keep it in my house," Cassie said. "I've got a loose floorboard under my bed that my parents don't know about."

"Okay," Jake said. He didn't sound convinced, but clearly didn't want to argue the point any further. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll do it," Rachel said instantly, drawing a laugh from film-Marco.

"Of _course_ Rachel will go first," film-Marco said. I heard the real Marco mumbling with himself. "She _always_ goes first. It's her schtick. It's like how Jake has to be responsible, or Cassie has to hug all the animals, or I have to be devilishly handsome and charming." Rachel swatted him.

"All right, Rachel," Jake said, "get started. We haven't got all day."

The camera focused on my sister as she closed her eyes in concentration. Suddenly, a feathery pattern spread across her body, then popped out into 3D all of a sudden. She shrunk, her legs and feet hardening into talons, while her nose and mouth fused into a fierce beak and her hair bleached itself white.

I'd seen morphing before, obviously. The Animorphs had done it often enough in the Hork-Bajir valley after we'd evacuated, and it was hard to avoid after the war, when Marco kept getting hired for bit parts in fantasy films. But this was the first time I'd ever seen Rachel morph into her bald eagle form. I'd heard it said that it was like watching her soul emerge from her body.

That description didn't even do it justice.

As soon as the morph finished, Rachel soared off into the sky. The video ended there.

"I went back," Marco said as the lights rose. "After we came back from rescuing Ax, but before I came here, I went to Cassie's old farm and pulled the video out from under her bed."

I waited until my voice was steady before replying. "And you've been holding onto it on the off chance I'd show up?"

Marco laughed. "Not really," he admitted. "I just thought it was something you might like to see. I fire it up every year around this time."

I put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Marco took advantage of my position to sweep an arm under my knees and lift me up, making me shriek. "And now, dinner!"

"_Put me down you motherfucker!_"

He paid no heed and headed for the kitchen with me kicking and screaming at him the whole way.


	3. Chapter 3

"Jordan, you really shouldn't go into the city alone," Marco insisted from across the breakfast table.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Like I've told you, Marco, I need to go into the city. I've been off work for a month now and I need to get some sort of article written." My editor had nearly bitten my head off when I'd called to ask for extra vacation time, and only the promise of a culture article had mollified her. "I promise I'll be careful."

"It's not a matter of being careful," he argued, spooning some Cap'n Crunch into his mouth. "You're clearly not from around here and you're not me. Chiwan City is like the New York of this place, and you've got 'target' written all over you."

"Then come with me," I suggested. "I don't mind having company."

Marco shook his head. "I would, but I can't. I've got a meeting with the President in a couple hours."

"Impressive." I finished my cereal and washed out the bowl. "Listen, I promise I'll only go in for a few hours. I won't carry much money and I'll stick to the safe districts. Okay?"

Marco sighed. "I guess I won't be able to talk you out of it. Stay safe."

"Always."

* * *

><p>I spent a lot of time wandering around the city before I even thought to check my phone for the time. Six o'clock. Damn. So much for only staying for a few hours. Looking around, I figured out how to get to where the limo driver would be waiting for me. I'd have to cut through a bad area, but only for a few blocks. There wouldn't be much danger.<p>

Okay, so it wasn't my most intelligent plan. Sue me.

I dialed Marco's cell number, intending to apologize for having been so late. Surprisingly, Jeeves answered the phone. "Yes, madam?"

"I just wanted to tell Marco I'd be back soon," I said. "I got caught up."

"Yes, madam," Jeeves replied. "I shall pass the message on when Mr. Black returns. He had to leave on some urgent personal business or other."

"Thanks," I said, then hung up, heading towards the pickup spot.

Three minutes later, I realized suddenly that I was being followed by two men. Two large men. They were closing in on me from two directions, and I suddenly realized they were forcing me towards a small alley. I tried to edge away from it, but a third man rose from some nearby steps and jerked his head towards it. Head spinning, I obediently veered into the alley, desperately trying to remember the self-defense classes I'd taken a few years ago.

The alleyway was a dead end. The men loomed before me when I turned around. One of them had a knife. "You give money," Knifey said in broken English.

"I don't have any," I said. "I spent it all." It was the truth, too. I'd only brought about fifty dollars' worth of the local currency into the city and I'd decided to sample the local cuisine with it.

"Then we kill," the guy to the left of Knifey said, grinning a grin that was missing teeth. "You find money or we kill."

I looked around quickly. An osprey was circling down to land at the open end of the alley. Marco, no doubt. Coming and finding me must've been that personal business Jeeves had mentioned. But there was no way he'd finish morphing in time for me.

An idea struck me.

"You know, when you put it that way," I said slowly, "I think I do have a bit of money left over."

Toothless grinned again. "Good girl. Hand over."

I reached into my purse, feeling around for a second before finding what I was looking for. Before the three men could react, I swung the tiny bottle of pepper spray up and emptied its contents into Toothless's face. He screamed in agony, clawing at his eyes.

Knifey looked in surprise over at his buddy, and while his attention was away from me I slapped his inner wrist with one hand and smacked the back of his hand with the other, easily knocking the knife away from him. His head swung back, rage etched on his features, but my foot was already impacting his crotch. He doubled over in pain and crumpled to the ground.

By the time all this had happened the third guy had recovered from his shock, and now he pinned me against the wall with two massive hands. My head banged into the brick and I saw stars. Struggling to focus through the haze, I looked past him to Marco, halfway into a gorilla morph and charging down the alley. The guy glanced behind him to see what I was looking at and I stomped on his instep as hard as I could. Swearing in whatever language he spoke, he let go of my arms and I dodged out of the way as Marco, now fully a gorilla, slammed him into the wall, knocking him out.

By now Toothless had managed to fight off the pain and was fleeing down the alleyway, but Marco loped after him and smacked him upside the head. He too fell to the ground unconscious.

Marco loped back to me and gestured to his back. ‹Hop on.› When he was sure I was hanging onto him securely, he quickly knuckle-walked through the now-strangely deserted streets to where the limo was waiting.

* * *

><p>"Are. You. <em>Insane?<em>" Marco exploded on the drive back to the mansion. "What were you thinking? You could've been killed!" _Like Rachel_, his eyes were saying, but he knew better than to voice that thought.

"Look, I made a stupid mistake, okay?" I retorted. "I figured I could just cut through to the limo and nobody would bother me because it was a short trip, okay? Nothing bad was supposed to happen."

Marco laughed humorlessly. "That's when something bad is pretty much _guaranteed_ to happen. What would you have done if I hadn't found you in time?"

"I was doing fine!" I protested. "I'd already taken out two of them."

"Yeah, and that third one was going to turn you into mincemeat," he shot back.

"If you hadn't been charging full-tilt down the alleyway when he let go of me, I would've grabbed that knife. Christ, Marco, I'm not _helpless_."

We sat in a sullen silence for a couple of minutes before he said quietly, "No, I guess you're not."

He looked over at me. "It's just that... When I saw those guys cornering you, all I could think of was Rachel, on the Blade Ship, with all those morphed Controllers around her... She wasn't helpless either, Jordan. And I don't... I don't think I could stand to lose you like I lost her."

I gave him a quizzical look. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Marco sighed, looking away. "Jordan, you're the only person that's managed to get close to me since the war." He let that hang in the air for a minute before he continued. "I don't know. Maybe this is stupid. But I think I love you."

Ordinarily I would have been thrilled. The pre-war Jordan would've been pissed if I turned this down — I'd had such a crush on Marco back then. But I'd been thinking over the past month, and watching Marco carefully, and my inquisitive journalist brain had come to the only logical conclusion. "You don't love me, Marco."

His head snapped back to me, his expression hurt. "What—?"

"You're still in love with my sister." _Who cares!_ young Jordan screamed at me in my head. But I knew this was better for both of us. "And now I remind you of my sister. So you think you're in love with me."

"I swear that's not the case," Marco protested. "It's not. I _did_ love your sister, and I probably always will to some degree. But... I love you _more_. My life's been so shallow since I came back to Earth, Jordan. Empty. I don't even have my family this time. But this past month has been the happiest I've had in a long time. You make all the stupid bullshit in my head go away."

The limo pulled up in front of the mansion, but Marco didn't make any move to get out. I went to open the door, but Marco's hand on my arm stopped me. I turned to see him holding out a ring.

"I didn't have a meeting with the President this morning," Marco said. "I want to wait until Jake gets out of prison so we can have everybody here, but... Jordan, you've made me complete. Will you marry me?"

I sat staring at the ring, stunned. I'd been so confident in my analysis, but now Marco's earnest proposal had shaken my certainty. And God help me, I did love him. I knew that much for sure.

Oh, what the hell.

"Yes."

* * *

><p><em>That last chapter took far longer to get out than I expected it to. Sorry about that! I have a couple other projects in mind right now, but I also have another fic to finish and my life is insanely busy right now, so I have no idea when I'll get to them. Stay tuned!<em>


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